Of Warren and Will
by newtypeshadow
Summary: WarrenWill drabbles and ficlets, each short and sweet and to its own point. Slash. To eliminate confusion: each chapter is its own short short story unrelated to the others.
1. hickey

title: hickey  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairing: Warren/Will drabble  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and its settings and cast are not mine.  
notes: this is a drabble--that means 100 words. also, while i completely support the cannon pairings--they're adorable!--a bit of slash just _had_ to be done.

* * *

"I wanna mark you."

"You mean, what, like a tattoo?'

Warren rolls his eyes. "You really _are_ stupid. I mean like a hickey."

Will pauses over his textbook. "You're supposed to be tutoring me."

"I'm your _private_ tutor. Everyone knows that's just an excuse to make out."

"Oh." Will shifts. "So…you wanna mark me."

"Yeah."

"With a hickey."

"I could burn you if you want." Warren's fingers burst into flame. He waggles them enticingly. Will wonders if they've singed his eyebrows.

"No thanks. I'll take the hickey."

Warren grins. His pink, full lips are an invitation. Will takes it gladly.


	2. pet names

title: pet names  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairing: Warren/Will drabble  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and its settings and cast are not mine.  
notes: this is a drabble--that means 100 words. also, while i completely support the cannon pairings--they're adorable!--a bit of slash just _had_ to be done.

* * *

He looks like a bad boy but his mouth is sweet, and while his hair is streaked the color of blood on pavement, his hands are gentle and firm. For the first time since becoming invulnerable, Will feels fragile, breakable. Warren's mouth like fire against Will's thigh is like the first time he flew.

"oh god," Will gasps.

"I hate pet names," Warren breathes. Chuckles spill out of Will from his mouth to his toes, and Warren slaps his thigh. Suddenly his grip is tight and stings of flame; they are floating. Will grabs tight to Warren's back and smiles.


	3. Will on top

title: Will on top  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairing: Warren/Will drabble  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and its settings and cast are not mine.  
notes: this is a drabble--that means 100 words. also, while i completely support the cannon pairings--they're adorable!--a bit of slash just _had_ to be done.

* * *

The first time Will takes charge he understands the work it takes to set a person writhing with a touch; Warren is practically still beneath him.

Will withdraws, embarrassed. His knee is between Warren's thighs. Black hair is tangled in Will's clumsy fingers. Bruises on Warren's arm mark down the new heights he has pushed Will to. Will wants to do the same for him, but nothing works. "Are you sure you...I mean, shouldn't you be flaming right now? If I was doing this right?"

"I've got a guy on top of me. I'm already flaming." Warren smiles. "Touch me."


	4. Layla and Will are kissing

title: Layla and Will are kissing  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairings: Will/Layla, Warren/Will unrequited  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and its settings and cast are not mine.  
notes: this is a double drabble--that means 200 words. also, while i completely support the cannon pairings--they're adorable!--the slashy hints _had_ to be written about.

* * *

Layla and Will are kissing.

The rest of the group are in various states of relaxation on the lawn, staring into the passing clouds. Warren looks at each of his strange new friends in turn, wondering why they still hang around him, but his gaze is continually drawn back to his best friend and said friend's girlfriend, kissing as though there is no one else in the world. He doesn't know why they've started kissing in public. They began with light kisses a week ago and just haven't quit. Normally he'd be okay with it, but now they're his friends, and he has a stake in this.

Warren loves Layla like a sister, or perhaps like a brave, suicidal rescue worker who took it upon herself to save Warren whether he wanted saving or not. He loves her in his own way, he supposes. But he doesn't know what he feels for Will. Watching him kiss her makes Warren want to look away, run away, spout fire from his hands and hurl them at the blissful couple. Watching them kiss makes him want to switch bodies with Layla, just for a second, so Will will notice him and look back.


	5. the gift

title: the gift  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairing: Will/Warren  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and its settings and cast are not mine.  
notes: this is a quadruple drabble--that means 400 words. also, while i completely support the cannon pairings--they're adorable!--a bit of slash just _had_ to be done.Writing exercise: "Warren didn't know what to make of the gift."

* * *

Warren didn't know what to make of the gift. It had been sitting inside his window, this tangle of wires, when he arrived in his single dorm from Physics 255. He picked it up off the ledge and studied it, experimentally burning the plastic of one wire with a finger. The wire drooped, charred. 

He wondered who it was from. He'd been getting strange gifts lately, had them hidden under his bed gathering dust bunnies where no one could see. There was the pane of stained glass; the strange pink stuffed rabbit; the metal bar with a handprint squeezed into it; and now this tangle of wires. At first he thought they were from his dad, on parole under his mother's and the Commander's supervision. But when the metal bar came, he thought they might be from Will. After all, how many people did he know who had the strength to make an impression on steel?

Mr. Stronghold took souvenirs, so why not his son? He knew Will had been helping his parents lately, juggling college and crime fighting, like Warren but on a larger scale. The Stronghold Three, they were, as if it weren't obvious to civilians what their real identities were.

But why would Will be leaving these for him? What did it prove—that he was good? Warren knew he was. That he hadn't been forgotten? He could just e-mail. And why didn't he stay to talk, if they were from him? Warren couldn't figure it out.

Sometimes he entertained the thought that Will was leaving them to show off, not to prove he was better—because he wasn't, he was still clueless half the time—but as a way of courting. He understood it was what he'd done with Gwen, but Warren wasn't some girl. What was Will playing at? Was it even him?

A part of him hoped so. It was the part that started flames in his hands and dreamed of the sweep of hair falling over Will's face. The rest of him wasn't so sure what that would mean. He knelt down and slid the wires under his bed, mussing the sheet to cover his growing collection. Then, pulling his hair back into a ponytail, Warren Peace sat down and began his homework.

On the roof of the adjacent building, Will smiled faintly, slid on his blue mask, and took to the skies.


	6. friendly consolation

title: friendly consolation  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairing: Will/Warren  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associatedsettings and charactersdo not belong to me.  
notes: so I was asked to write more of these and didn't think I would, but then this came to me and now here itis.hopefully the boys aren't too OOC--it's been weeks since I saw the movie.also, this is 640 words--not a drabble by any stretch of the imagination. my apologies.

* * *

The day after Layla breaks up with him Warren is at his doorstep with Paper Lantern takeout and his fists. "This is for eating," he says, handing Will the bag, "and these are for burning stuff that reminds you of her."

"I'd have to burn down that tree," Will says, motioning to the apple tree on the front lawn with a tilt of his head. "And my house."

Warren gives him a look. "Little things, idiot. Pictures, knick-knacks, dorky plants…"

Will shuffles hesitantly on the front step. "Do I have to burn the CDs?"

"No. Those, you give to me."

Will punches him softly on the shoulder, but Warren knows it'll bruise by tonight; it always does. Will's been punching him a little too hard for three years now.

"Come in," Will is saying, and Warren follows him through the front hall and up the stairs to Will's bedroom. The weights are gone, useless in light of Will's superstrength. These days he lifts trucks and buses after school before flying home. The walls are full of pictures of Will at eight and fourteen and the latest, seventeen, and of Will's friends. Warren's even in some of them. Most of them, in fact.

The individual pictures of Layla are gone. "I see you've already started."

"Yeah." Will motions to an empty spot on the floor around which the missing photographs have been laid out. "I started a few days ago."

"But you only broke up yesterday."

"I know." Will looks up at Warren, eyes suddenly sharper. "Why did you break up with Amy?"

Warren smirks, takes the food from Will and sets it in the center of the pictures. "We weren't right for each other. At first we didn't give a fuck, but you can't ignore it forever."

"Oh." Will is looking at the brown paper sack on his floor. "So how do you know you're right for someone?"

"How did you know you were right for Layla?"

Will smiles softy. "I kissed her."

"And that was it?"

"No." Will frowns. "I lost her first."

Warren grins, shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "Well there you go. But try not to lose 'em first."

Will is silent for few moments. Then a smile breaks across his face, a breath of fresh air in the heavy room. "Thanks. I'll…I'll do that."

Warren's grin falters for a split second. "You've already got someone else in mind? No wonder you two didn't work. Good thing she's not mad at you, 'cause I guarantee she knows."

"Yeah. Layla always knows."

And it's Warren's turn to study Will, because Will isn't telling him something and both of them know it. "Who is it? Is that why she broke it off?"

Will nods. "Come here a sec," he says, "I don't want my parents to hear this."

Warren steps closer, carefully sidestepping the photographs and Chinese, the dirty clothes cast about like landmines. "Who is it?" he asks.

And Will surges forward and kisses him. There is superstrength in the tongue that pushes into his mouth and a flier's careful grace in the way Will's hands cup his face. His lips are not cold, as Amy's were, but warm and vibrant and alive.

Suddenly Will lets go and flies out of reach. He lands beside his bed, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and playing with his hands.

"Why'd you do that?" Warren asks.

"Because…because I like you?"

Warren rolls his dark eyes. "I meant fly away, stupid."

Will's face is hopeful as a child's, but his bruised red mouth is adult, wild and sensual. "Oh," he says. "Right." He floats back to Warren, stopping in the air when they are eye to eye and says, "So…does this mean we're dating?"

Warren sighs. "Just shut up and kiss me."


	7. geometry

title: geometry  
fandom: _Sky High  
_pairing: Warren/Will  
disclaimer: neither the characters nor settings or story of _Sky High_ belong to me. i am not writing this for profit, but for entertainment.  
notes: Because so many people here have popped out of the woodwork to ask for more.  
This plotbunny (for a ficlet, not a drabble, by the by)bit me while I was trying to sleep. rosalyn angel did a snap beta for me despite the late hour. and so, it's 2am and I'm posting. How's that for service?

* * *

Will has always been good at math. When he was little he remembers counting the pounds on his dad's weight machine. His dad would add and subtract them randomly; he had no need for such a machine, except to keep himself defined. Image is important for a real estate agent. 

Will plans to take up the Stronghold legacy—well, the other half of it—but not for another few years. He's already helping with the business side of the real estate agency. He does office work and filing and accounting information. He's got his license, has had it since college. He's just not ready to show houses yet; it's a personal thing, and his parents aren't old yet. Not really. He has time.

He's staring into the computer monitor, looking over the syllabus for this week's class. A math teacher is home sick, and Will has always been good at math. He substitutes for elementary and high schools in his local district, and Warren pays for his half of the rent by counseling norms with parental problems, and counseling supers on the side.

Speaking of whom, the light suddenly goes on when Will is wondering how the hell he's supposed to write Wednesday's geometry test when he doesn't know how many chapters it's supposed to be on. An arm slides around his shoulders. The pinstriped sleeve is pushed back, revealing a tan, well-muscled forearm. Long black hair falls against Will's cheek. He smiles.

"I didn't know you were home," Will says.

"Yeah, I had an emergency—had to make a house call. I didn't think you'd still be up."

"I have to write a test. Yay."

"You could sound more excited about it. A chance to torture little high schoolers…"

Will chuckles and rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't have appreciated that in high school, so no way _they_ will."

"Who knows, maybe kids have changed since we were in high school."

"What do _you_ think, oh mighty counselor?"

It's Warren's turn to roll his eyes. "I think my mild-mannered substitute teacher should come to bed."

Will frowns. "But this test needs to be done—"

"By Wednesday. I know. Call the teacher tomorrow and ask about it."

Will sighs. "Alright. But if it never gets done and the school never calls me to sub again—"

"Tell them you were having sex with your lover." Warren smirks.

So does Will. "_Am_ I having sex with my lover?" He saves the computer file without looking at the keys.

Warren withdraws his arm, sliding it across Will's chest, and stretches sinuously. Will watches his shirt ride up, revealing a splash of familiar dark hair and muscle. "You could be," Warren teases.

Will turns off the computer. The night is young, and he doesn't intend to waste it on geometry.


	8. news

title: news  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_notes: double drabble. I don't know why I'm on a post-high school kick for these two. Perhaps because it allows for enough change that not having seen the movie in a month won't matter too much…

* * *

Will sat on the edge of the couch. He felt nothing—not the leather beneath him, not the mug slipping from his fingers, not the burn in his wide eyes. All he felt was horror.

Warren was on TV, motionless on the broken pavement. Above him, ElectroMan was raising a bloody hand to end the battle definitively.

Please, he prayed, Make Warren get up. Get up get up get—

Electricity sparked blue. Both combatants were engulfed in flame.

"Warren!"

"What?" Warren asked, entering the living room, black suit jacket slung over one shoulder. Will abruptly stood and hurled himself at his lover, knocking him back against the apartment door with a grunt. The jacket fell to the floor as Warren caught him. "Ribs!"

"Sorry." Will realized he was floating and lowered himself to the ground.

"What's your problem?" Warren asked, grin taking away the sting.

"I saw the news. I was so worried!"

Warren's grin became smug. "It was recorded—that all happened hours ago. Besides, my sidekick's a low-grade healer—you really need to learn to trust her."

"I know, but it's _you_."

"What are you saying?"

Will kissed him softly, gripping his shirt. "I'm just glad you're home."


	9. confession

title: confession  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairings: Will/Layla, Warren/Will  
disclaimer: The charactes and settings of Sky High belong to their respective owners. None of those owners is me. This story was written for enjoyment, not for profit.  
notes: i was trying to write something of them in high school. hopefully it's not too ooc--it's been a while since i saw the movie.

* * *

"Does it ever bother you that we're like something out of a Stephen King novel?" Layla asks. The three of them are lying on Will's roof. Will is in the middle, Warren and Layla stretched out on either side. 

"What, you mean like Firestarter?" Warren asks.

"Or, like, Carrie. I saw that movie once. It was freaky."

"We're not really like that," Will says through a yawn. "I mean, she was c-crazy."

"Two yawns in one sentence? I think someone's up past his bedtime."

"Shut up, Warren."

"Hey Will, remember when we used to have to go to bed at seven?"

Will shifts, puts both arms behind his head and raises his eyebrows. "We _were_ seven."

"I know, but it was still weird, going to bed when the sky was still light out."

"Yeah." Will smiles. "Remember my mom would read to us?"

"Yeah, but only one story."

"And only if we promised to stay in bed."

"Yeah."

"I never had a bedtime," Warren says after a moment, breaking their reverie.

"Why not?" Will asks.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Because my dad didn't believe in caging me."

The other two supers are silent at this. Warren doesn't often speak of his dad, except in passing comments like this. They wait to see if he'll say more, but nothing comes. Finally, Layla says, "What did your mom think?"

"Same."

"Oh."

Warren shifts, closes his eyes. "Don't you have to go soon?"

"I live here."

"I was asking Layla, you dork," he snarls.

"Someone's cranky," she mutters. Will chuckles softly and Warren slaps his stomach.

"Hey! She said it!"

"You're closer."

"I _do_ have to go though."

Will sits up, dusts off his hair. "Ok. I'll walk you out."

"I won't. You two lovebirds have fun."

Layla and Will frown at him. "We're not dating anymore," she says, slipping her green satchel over her head. "You know that. Why do you always act like we are?"

Warren shrugs but doesn't open his eyes. His leather jacket scrapes softly against the rooftop.

"Warren—"

Will stops her with a hand on her arm. They climb in the window and soon Warren hears them talking on the front step. Their voices are low, and he can only hear their esses distinctly in the short flow of words. He hears his name once, from Layla, but other than that he really doesn't care what they're saying. He looks up at the stars, obscured by city lights and a few clouds, and hopes to see a shooter.

Will's head pokes out the window a few moments after the talking stops and the door closes. "Hey Warren, come inside?"

Warren raises an eyebrow and cranes his neck. Will's face is upside down, his hair flopping up instead of down. "Is it your bedtime or something?"

"No. I thought you might want to talk inside."

"I like it out here."

"You said we would talk after she left. Well, she left. It's time to talk."

"Fine!" Warren shoves himself up and climbs inside, bumping Will as he slides into the room. He doesn't apologize. "Whadda you wanna know, Stronghold?" he asks, crossing his arms.

Will sits on the bed and motions to the weight machine for Warren to sit. Warren prefers to stand, and says so in the crossing of his legs as he leans against the windowsill. Will sighs. "Look, why do you keep talking about Layla and me like we're dating? We've been broken up for weeks!"

"You don't act like it."

"It was an amicable break up. Why would we stop being friends?"

"I'm not saying you should. I just don't understand how you could just _not be dating_."

"What is there to understand? We broke up."

"But you act the exact same way you did _while_ you were dating."

"Well, that was our problem."

Warren stops short. "What?"

"Sit down." Will's voice is tired. He cards his hair out of his face, tugging when he reaches the ends as if to keep it in place. His hands slap his thighs when they drop back into his lap, and he slumps forward. The hair falls right back into place, but he doesn't mess with it this time.

Warren feels bad. He slips off his jacket, hangs it over the end of the bar (650 pounds + jacket), and straddles the bench. "What is it? Why did you really break up? Because I really don't buy that you just weren't right for each other."

"I'm—well, ok. I was right for her. Sort of. But she wasn't right for me."

"Sort of?"

"Sort of."

Will looks anxiously at the door and back at Warren. He sees the open window and shuts it. Instead of sitting down again he paces by his bedroom door. It's the only empty space in the small room. "Do you promise not to tell? I mean, swear on your dad you won't tell anybody? And I'm including your mom and the guys and your _cat_ and _especially_ my parents in this—"

"Will, what is it? I won't tell—you know that. What's your problem?"

"It's not a problem! It's not…It's not." He stops, folds his hands behind his back. For a moment it's like he's not even in the room, he's so quiet, still.

"Will?"

"I'm gay."

"What?"

"I'm—"

"No, I heard you the first time."

Will looks hesitantly at Warren, but the frown on Warren's face is his thoughtful look and gives nothing overtly away. "So?" His voice is strangled, small.

"Oh, it's not a problem. I'm just wondering why you dated Layla in the first place then."

Will sighs and sits back down on the bed in a huff. "I don't know. I really liked her. I still do. I love her. It was just…the wrong kind. _Is_ the wrong kind. I don't know."

Warren's hands go up. "I got it! I got it. Ok. So—no lovebird comments anymore?"

"Right. It's really uncomfortable, 'cause neither of us can say anything at school. And you didn't _know_ yet and I couldn't just come out and—"

"Come out in school."

"Yeah. I mean, what?"

"I was finishing your thought."

Will smiles sadly. "Layla used to do that."

Warren feels awkward. His hands feel big, knobby. He twists his knuckles with his fingers, as if they will offer him the next words to say. "So…how did you know?"

Will's smile droops. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Warren frowns. "You like someone, don't you."

"Warren—"

"Ok, ok. Uh…where am I going to sleep?"

Will taps the floor with his foot.

"Great." And Warren is back to being the slightest bit surly. It is reassuring to Will, because this he is used to, this he can deal with. Warren catching on is something he is terrified of.

But Warren goes to sleep that night without anymore questions, and in the morning Will wakes up to find him quietly reading a comic book from Will's shelf, the X-Men comic he thought he'd lost. Will says as much, and Warren says, "You're just messy. You wouldn't believe half the things I've found in this room."

Will's heart stops.

Because now he remembers where he put that comic. It was right next to his shoebox of memories: friends, clippings, family, all had things left haphazardly in that box. And everything Warren was on top. As it has been for weeks. Will remembers exactly what picture lies on top of the rest: the one of Warren with his arm around Will's shoulder, smiling for once, hair pulled back and head tilting toward Will just as Will's head tilts toward Warren. Will's arm is around Warren's waist. It was taken after they won the Save the Citizen tournament last year, and Will looks at it because of the situation it suggests. Not that it's true, but he wishes much more than he'll ever admit…

Warren doesn't say anything, but his eyes are soft. "I'm hungry," he says finally, breaking the silence.

"Oh. Oh, uh…I can…I think Mom's up." Will crawls off the foot of his bed so he doesn't step on Warren, and opens his door. "You coming?"

Warren is already sliding out of his sleeping bag. His gray sleep shirt has ridden up a little ways, and his stomach is tan as his arms. Will catches a glimpse of hip bone and stalls. When he looks up again, Warren is grinning smugly. Will glares at him and steps into the hallway.

Warren follows, walking close because he can.


	10. secrets

title: secrets  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairings: Will/Layla, Will/Warren  
disclaimer: The charactes and settings of Sky High belong to their respective owners. None of those owners is me. This story was written for enjoyment, not for profit.  
notes: the lady or the tiger...but not. also, i'd like to thank all the people who've been reading and reviewing. it means a lot to me. i'm the sort who compulsively checks her e-mail, so the review alert thing makes me light up like a christmas tree. anyways, onto the fic!

* * *

When Warren sleeps over he climbs into Will's bed after the other boy falls asleep. He sleeps with his head on Will's shoulder and with Will's lips breathing air into his mouth. He falls asleep content, feeling safe. Feeling the love he wants that Will could never promise him. When he wakes with the sun he slips back into the sleeping bag on the floor. It is cold and slick, not like Will's warm sturdiness. He hugs his chilled pillow to his head and goes back to sleep, content that Will will never know this part of him, will never have to say "no." 

Will, in his bed, waits until Warren's breath evens out before opening his eyes again and watching the older boy sleep. He won't break up with Layla, because he loves her dearly. At the same time, he can't stop inviting Warren over, and every night, when Warren crawls into his bed, Will watches him sleep the way he thinks he would watch Layla. He sees the rise and fall of Warren's chest, feels the weight of Warren's dark head on his shoulder, and stifles the urge to cradle Warren's body and keep him from leaving when the sun comes up.

Will wishes he didn't want them both, but he does. And until he can figure out who he wants more, they'll each have to live with these secret, hidden desires.


	11. pillow talk

title: pillow talk  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: The charactes and settings of Sky High belong to their respective owners. None of those owners is me. This story was written for enjoyment, not for profit.  
notes: i just like when couples talk in bed.  
notes2: thanks so much to all of you who reviewed! you made me so happy :) also, someone asked for more graphic Warren/Will interactions than just kissing. i generally don't write that far into the bedroom, but there are two such stories that i've finished and could post here on ffnet if no one's opposed to me changing the rating. so--any takers?

* * *

They are in bed. A lot of conversations happen when they are in bed. Especially after sex, since Warren is too relaxed for his usual angry reticence. "My dad called today," he slurs from Will's shoulder. His hair catches on Will's sweat as he slides his head down to Will's chest, hand fingering the opposite nipple before sliding down to clutch the thin sheets. 

"Are they really gonna let him out?" Will asks. He knows they will, but to voice it seems necessary.

"Yeah." Warren sighs. "I didn't know what to say to him. So I let the answering machine pick it up."

"I didn't hear it when I checked the messages."

"I deleted it."

Will pauses. Shifts. Strokes Warren's hair. "What did he say?" He is careful when he says it, as if the answer is unimportant to him. Which it's not. His heart is hammering Warren's head with every frantic beat. Warren strokes his stomach as if he can sooth Will's heart and sighs warm air onto Will's sweat-drying skin.

"He wants to meet you."

"Was that all?"

"…he says he loves me. No matter what."

"I mean…that's good, right? You love him, he loves you, it's all ok. Right?"

"I don't know anymore," Warren says. "I hope so. But I don't know."

Will lifts Warren's head. Makes sure their eyes meet in the dark. "Whatever you decide—whether we both meet him or not—I'll always love you. You're all I need."


	12. what Warren wants

title: what Warren wants  
author: newtypeshadow  
pairings: Warren/Ice Girl (Amy), Warren/OMC, Warren/Will  
disclaimer: this story was written for fun, not for profit. the characters and settings of Sky High are not my property.  
notes: drabble. also, don't worry about the first two pairings. they're only in the fic for a sentence each.

* * *

Warren wants someone who can hold him down. Who won't burn in his anger or his passion. Who will listen to his oldies rock and strum the air guitar like no one's watching. Who's strong enough to glare back and strong enough to look away. There was Amy, who turned to ice when he got too consuming. There was Richie, who burned inside despite having no superpowers of his own. But Warren is still looking, seeking someone who can be his equal, his better, his other half.

He doesn't see Will looking back at him, all he wants and more.


	13. Move in with me

title: "Move in with me."  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ remains someone else's. This story was written for pleasure, not profit.  
notes: quadruple drabble (400 words)  
notes2: visit the lj community brainsxbrawn to find other lovers of Warren/Will slash. also, thanks so much for the reviews! in reply to a few of those: i like cookies (YSG); and i want to thank the zein crew for voting for me. :) onto the fic!

* * *

Will always thought he'd be the one to ask, but it's Warren who says it first. "Move in with me," he whispers as Will is leaving, pulling Will by the shirt and crushing him against the door to the apartment. "Stace's moving out and there'll be a room open. You could live here with me. Just the two of us. What do you think?" 

Will's eyes light up, but then he sighs. "My dad would kill me," he says, quirky grin on his face. "You know he still doesn't trust you."

"Fuck him."

"Warren!"

"You're twenty-three, you should be able to pick your own goddamn lover without him holding your hand!"

"Warren, stop! You know what I mean."

Warren growls and pushes away. This time it is Will who grabs him, placing him squarely in the spot he'd just left: pressed up against Will from knees to chest, breathing the same frustrated air. Warren doesn't bother fighting Will's grip. He knows it's useless. "Move in with me," he says in lieu of apology.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok. Jeez, I was trying to tell you before you blew up."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I have a condition though."

Warren frowns, suspicious. "What? And it better not be something stupid, like, wanting one of Layla's plants in the windowsill. I swear to God that girl gives me hay fever."

Will shoves him playfully. "No, it's not like that. I want a welcome mat."

Warren's eyes grow large. "A _welcome_ mat? I don't like people over here!"

"No, no, it'll say, 'if you lived here you'd be home by now.' Isn't that great?"

"No."

"Please?" Will's eyes are so hopeful, and his mouth always hangs open the slightest bit when he's begging without speaking. Warren can never restist kissing him when he's like this, and doesn't bother trying now.

"Fine," he growls when he withdraws. Will sags against him, humming into the crook of his neck. "Now get out of here. You need to start packing."

That straightens Will up. "What? But—"

"Stacy's moving out next Saturday, which means you're moving in next Sunday." Warren shoves Will aside and flings open the door. "If you need help packing, call Layla. See you tomorrow!" His smile is downright perky when the door slams in Will's face, and his eyes are bright with suppressed laughter. Throwing Will off-balance will never get old.


	14. It's amazing what one can get used to

title: It's amazing what one can get used to  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story is being written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: triple drabble (300 words).  
notes2: thanks for all the reviews! they are much appreciated :)

* * *

They're used to people looking at them in all manners of awe, curiosity, wonder. Will is the son of the two greatest superheroes in America. Warren is the son of the greatest Supervillain in fifty years. 

They're used to cameras blinding their eyes. They're the greatest superhero team next to Commander and Jetstream. The president has them on speed dial and the tabloids are paying $2000 a picture for anyone daring enough to try to tail them from a fight scene

They're used to dressing up. There have been dozens of dances and benefits both Warren and Will have attended as their superhero alter-egos, and in high school there were proms and homecoming dances.

They're used to dancing. Warren taught Will how to move like he had soul, and Will taught Warren how to dance like he had class.

They're used to kissing. They've been dating since Will's junior year and Warren's senior year at Sky High. It's been six years since then and they're used to each other, comfortable. They've broken themselves of habits the other can't stand and gained a passion for each other unmatched even by their first hesitant steps toward a relationship.

They're _not_ used to dancing in suits with each other at a public benefit instead of grinding in skivvies in their bedroom. They're not used to kissing in front of cameras and senators and grinning in front of governors and representatives at their inability to keep their hands separated for more than a quick handshake. They're not used to being Together in public at all.

But they will be. They've gotten used to everything else, from fighting enemies and each other to making peace between nations and coming into their own. In comparison, coming out to the nation has been a piece of cake.


	15. Yesterday's gone and so is Will

title: Yesterday's gone and so is Will  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
pairings: Warren/Will, Warren/OC (Violet Tempest)  
notes: I've been asked to write a second part to this. I'm still...deciding. Also, the next ficlet I'm planning on posting here will definitely bump up the overall rating. Any objections?

* * *

Yesterday's gone and so is Will. The house never seemed so empty. Echoes of Will's accusations still ricochet off the walls. Will's crushed, angry eyes burn into Warren's whenever he looks into the mirror. 

Warren wants to think he's innocent, but he's not. Violet Tempset kissed him and he let her. He didn't torch her either. What Will doesn't understand was that to Warren, it was the right thing to do. Or at least, it seemed that way at the time. Now he's not so sure.

Violet Tempest and Warren were lovers in an alternate dimension. A dimension where Warren never met Will Stronghold. Where he followed in his father's footsteps. Where Layla killed him trying to apprehend him. Violet Tempest came through time and multiple universes to find a Warren who could be hers, if only for a moment. It was just their bad luck she chose this one.

And that Warren listened to her. And kissed her goodbye while tears of rejection slid down her face.

He can't explain this to Will, the hero wouldn't let him. And how could Will understand? How could Will understand that if he died Warren would want the exact same closure Violet Tempest did, but he wouldn't stop with a kiss? How can he explain that Violet Tempest is more merciful than him, that if his own Will died he would try to fall in love with another, praying all the while it wasn't just a pale reflection of his own lost love? How can he explain that selfishness, that soul-deep need to have Will in his life, without coming off like a total stalkerish asshole? Or a wuss?

God, it's hard being in love. And it hurts like hell to lose it.

Warren scrubs his lips hard with a washcloth, scrubs off the kiss until his mouth is bleeding and raw. Then he smashes the mirror so Will's eyes can't accuse him and curls up in bed, mind racing, heart heavy.

Will will cool off, come back. He has to. Because Warren can't live without him, just like Violet Tempest couldn't live without her Warren. Will has to come back, he _has_ to, because without him the flames in Warren's heart burn bright enough to consume: anyone, everyone.


	16. bad music videos

title: bad music videos  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
rating: R(sexual content)  
notes: um...someone asked me to write past kisses and gropes. this is totally not my fault. really.

* * *

"I'm sick of these music videos." Warren changed the channel in disgust as another pair of breasts pushing out of a teensy swimsuit jiggled in front of the camera. 

"Hey, I was watching that!"

"And that song was shit."

"I like that song!" Will made a grab for the remote and landed squarely over Warren's lap. Warren pressed onto his back and held him there. "Just because you're gay—"

"Oh, and you're not? It's a horrible song, Will." Warren turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the coffee table.

"I'm not gay," Will sulked. "Lemme up."

"You could get up if you really wanted to. And you _are_ gay."

"I like girls, too."

"You'd better not."

"Not _now_. I'm dating you right now."

Warren grinned and put up his feet, lifting Will a fraction as he raised his thighs. "Damn straight."

"I think you should let your boyfriend up."

Warren grinned and ran a hand under Will's shirt, stroking his back. Will hissed as Warren's fingernails ran down a particularly sensitive spot. "C-cut it out."

"Quit poking me," Warren said.

"I'm not poking you!"

"Something's poking me."

"Yeah, and it's your fault."

"You know, that music video didn't do anything for me."

"Warren," Will fidgeted, breath hitching more than it ran smooth.

"I think you should make it up to me."

"Then l-let me ah-up."

Warren's fingers dipped teasingly below Will's waistline, sliding under his boxers and along the cleft of his ass. "So you'll make it up to me?"

"Yessss…"

"For making me listen to that…shitty song?"

"It's—"

"A bad song."

Will was groaning now, Warren's hand completely in the other young man's pants and stroking his perineum from behind, pressing in rhythm. "Warren." Will was thrusting into Warren's thighs. Warren was pressing back.

"I think you should be naked," Warren whispered, bending over Will and tonguing his ear.

"Yes," Will hissed. Warren withdrew his hand abruptly.

Will groaned in protest. "Warren!"

"What? You're still dressed, and I don't want to be the one who washes your pants."

"Warren!" Will was still grinding into Warren's thigh, but Warren kept ruining his rhythm. "Warren, cut that out. I'm so close!"

Warren smirked. "Bedroom. Five seconds. Go."

Will got up with a grumble, adjusting himself and limping off. Warren watched his ass all the way to the bedroom before standing with a wince and following.

Will wouldn't stay mad, not for long. Warren gave it about...two seconds. He shut the bedroom door behind him and his smirk widened. Will was on the bed, panting, shirt in a bundle on the floor and pants halfway off his hips. On the floor. Boxers followed swiftly, and Will was open entirely, naked on the bed.

Yeah. This was more like it.


	17. all the King's men

title: All the King's men  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. this story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: while listening to Dido, 'All You Want.'  
notes2: thanks so much for the reviews for the last chapter. i was really nervous about posting it. and i hope no one minds the bumped up rating. no one said anything, so i figured it was fine.

* * *

Warren hates nights like this. Nights where Will goes alone into volcano- or earthquake-decimated areas because he's the only one who can withstand the temperatures, fly over to find trapped bodies, and lift off the debris from their crumbled houses and workplaces. On nights like this Warren waits up with the news coverage, watching Will perform feat after daring feat, and hoping he'll be able to come home. 

He has hot cocoa waiting in the microwave and the way to the bathroom clear. A fresh, fluffy towel—dark, not their usual white—is waiting to be used by the shower. And Warren waits, waits for Will to come home with new darkness in his eyes and sorrow sloping his shoulders, carving lines into his face.

He hates it when Will comes home so broken, but he is ready. Ready to put Will back together again. They joke that he is all the King's horses and all the King's men, but really, he is only one man, and he is afraid, on this night, as he is every night, that when Will comes in with smoke and ash on his torn uniform and a face that begs to be saved, Warren won't be enough to reconstruct his faith in humanity, one jagged piece at a time.


	18. It was my father's

title: It was my father's  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: a bit meandering.

* * *

"It was my father's," Warren says, sliding the jewelry box forward.

Will hesitates before taking the long, thin box. The black fabric is velvety under his fingers. "Are you sure he'd want me to have this? I mean, my dad put him—"

"Will. Take it."

Warren's eyes are pleading. Don't ruin this. Accept this. Take this. Will grins softy in apology and opens the box. It's a necklace, thin gold links attached to a flame matching those tattooed on Warren's wrists. Will gasps. "Didn't he—"

"They took it from him when he went to prison. Gave it to me. My mom gave it to him as an engagement present. I want you to have it now."

Will's mouth is suddenly dry. He reaches blindly for his water glass and it falls with a thunk onto the table and spills onto the floor, the white tablecloth, beneath their wide porcelain plates. "Oh my God," Will says, moving the box off the table without thinking. Warren shakes his head and starts cleaning up the water with his linen napkin. A waiter comes over and helps. When the table is reasonably dry again, Will realizes the box is clutched tightly in his left hand and he has no intention of letting it go.

"So?" Warren asks. There is fragility behind his tough veneer. Will sees it easily now, and it floods his heart with affection. Love.

"So what?"

"Will you accept it?"

"Of course." Will opens the box and puts the necklace on, belatedly realizing he probably should have let Warren do the honors, but then realizing Warren would have protested if he'd meant to do it himself. Will wonders if he's just agreed to marry Warren or of he's agreed to something more…permanent. If he's accepted Warren's love for him instead of always worrying that Warren will leave him for a girl.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" Warren asks, already waving for the check.

Will smiles. "Yeah," he says. "Let's."


	19. a Halloween prank

title: a Halloween prank  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: inspired by a real picture from on-campus (Emily, behind Washburn).  
notes2: thanks so much for the reviews, and a special thanks to those of you who've written Warren/Will slash in response to my profile page begging :) i'm ecstatic there are so many WW slash fans here on ffnet! Happy Halloween!  
note3: check out the lj community SkyHighFic. someone just posted a _really_ hot Will/Warren fic there. that is all. :)

* * *

Warren whipped about the kitchen in a frenzy. "I hate Halloween," he said, rushing out the door, breakfast bar in hand. 

"Warren, you forgot something!" Will called from around the eggs he was scarfing down like there was no tomorrow. Or like he'd be late to the office.

Warren skidded to a stop in the kitchen doorway. "What did I forget? Oh shit, I'm gonna be _so_ late."

Will stood and wrapped his arms around Warren's shoulders. Warren smiled and shook his head. "So sorry." He turned, ran a hand along Will's jaw, twined his fingers into his lover's hair, and gave Will a kiss that curled his toes. Will grinned, a little dazed when their lips separated with an audible smack.

"Now you can go," he breathed.

"Thanks for the permission." Warren licked his lips and grinned smugly. "And thanks for the eggs." He laughed as Will swatted at him and sprinted to the door.

Will rolled his eyes and returned to his breakfast. He was halfway back into his seat when he heard it.

"Fucking kids!" Warren shouted, slamming the front door shut and stalking back into the house.

"What's wrong?" Will stood abruptly.

"_This_ is why we shouldn't give out teachers' addresses in the directory."

"What? What happened?" Will hurried past Warren and opened the front door.

"I'm going to torch whoever's responsible for this," Warren was muttering when Will looked into the driveway and saw what he was talking about: saran wrap and cobwebs. All over their car. Tying it to the lamp post in their front yard. There was no way they could get the car cleaned up enough to take it out before 7:30am, not when they were already bordering on late.

Will heard a crack and realized the door needed to be replaced. "Damn kids," he growled.

Warren drew him back into the house—carefully—Will could feel the heat beneath his hands—and closed the door. Then he took a few steps back, turned, and hurled a fireball into the fireplace. "Do they have to prank the house _every year_?"

Will sighed. "I guess we should've expected this. Want me to fly you to school today?"

"Sure. And you know what, I'm feeling inspired: I think my seniors will get a pop quiz today."

Will grinned and walked back into the kitchen. "Give 'em hell for me," he called back. Warren nodded resolutely, plan already forming. His supers class was gonna _wish_ he'd torched them by the time the day was over.


	20. the funeral

title: the funeral  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairings: Warren/Will, others  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: i hope everyone had a fun, safe halloween!

* * *

The day of Baron Battle's funeral there is national coverage of Warren carrying the coffin with Will on the other side, shoulders under the heavy black-painted wood and solemnity on their faces. The cameras are held at the gate of the cemetery where the Baron will be buried. Only Warren, his mother, Will, Will's parents, and their friends are allowed inside. There is no priest. There is only the coffin, lowered into the earth. Red and black roses are sprinkled on the top before the dirt comes pouring in. 

Warren isn't crying, but he leans into Will's hand on his shoulder. Layla's head is against his other bicep, lending strength by needing strength. Will's parents, dressed as the Commander and Jetstream, have their heads bowed together. They stand on the other side of the coffin, holding hands. They are older now, faces heavy with wrinkles, bellies full with paunch and backs stooped with the weight of age and the world's dire problems. Their uniforms are funeral black in honor of the occasion. Warren wears his father's old tuxedo.

When they get home, Warren will curl up in bed and cry, and Will will wrap himself around Warren and wait it out. It won't take long. Warren shed most of his tears as a child when he watched his father taken away, protesting his innocence as his mother held him back. This, this funeral, is just the epilogue. It is the closure for decades of absence and pain. And however much Will hates that Baron Battle has died—that Warren's _father_ is dead—he is glad for the moment when Warren takes his hand and says, "I'm tired. Let's go home."


	21. at first it starts with little things

title: At first it starts with little things  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: triple drabble.  
notes2: thanks for all the reviews! you have no idea how much they brighten my day :) speaking of which, this is being posted in honor of my unhappy midterm tomorrow. hopefully your days will not be nearly so bad.

* * *

At first it starts with little things. An extra toothbrush in the bathroom. A blanket draped over the couch. A change of Will's clothes in Warren's closet. Then there are bigger things. The left side of Warren's closet, Will's aftershave in the medicine cabinet, Will's Super suit hidden under the mattress with Warren's.

Then Warren's roomie moves out and suddenly—or not so suddenly—Will needs to move out, too; his flat mate is getting suspicious. Warren says it's perfect, Will signs a lease, and they're roommates.

At first it starts with little things. Casual brushes of hips as they're puttering about the kitchen. Will falling asleep with his feet on Warren's lap while they're watching cheesy dubbed martial arts movies on cable. Will making coffee in the mornings and getting out a second cup. Then there are bigger things. Will rescuing Warren from rough scrapes with Supervillains. Will rescuing Warren from that flirtatious swinger couple across the hall with a well-placed arm and a fearsome look. The way Warren's heart beats faster when Will walks in the door with that smile on his face.

Then Will confesses he's gay over spaghetti and meatballs and suddenly Warren realizes he's available, always has been, and says he doesn't mind when in truth he's ecstatic. And then Will drops the bombshell that isn't, because it's been coming for months despite the subtle way it snuck up on Warren: "I'm in love with you," Will says, "and it doesn't have to go anywhere if you don't want it to. I can move out."

But Warren kisses him instead, and leaves him wide-eyed and slack-jawed in the kitchen. "I'm going to bed—I've got work in the morning."

Warren's door closes as Will is licking his lips. Both are thinking about the little things.


	22. in which Will tries to make amends

title: in which Warren is pissed and Will tries to make amends  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_pairings: Warren/Will, mentioned Will/Layla  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for pleasure, not for profit.  
notes: inspired by my school job.  
notes2: thanks so much for all the reviews! they give me joy :)

* * *

Warren's pissed. Layla's apologetic, but Warren won't talk to her, either. He just stalks around the school hallways, as angry and aloof as he was before he met them. And people get out of his way. 

Except Will. "Look, Warren, I didn't—"

"Save it," Warren growls, hurrying off.

Will is afraid to ask Layla what he should do because Warren might see and think there really _is_ something going on. So he does what usually worked when he and Layla were having problems: he goes to the Paper Lantern. Warren is there, of course, working hard to ignore him while still bussing his table and refilling his water glass. "Warren—"

"I'm working," the older boy snaps.

"Please, just—"

"Go home."

Will sighs and puts his head in his hands, but Warren takes no pity. A short Chinese woman with bags under her eyes comes to his table. She puts down his receipt—$7.49—and asks him to come to the register when he's ready.

Will knows that Warren gets off at nine and does dishes at the end of his shift. Suddenly, a smile blossoms upon his face.

At eight o'clock, Will tells the woman at the register he has no cash or plastic on him. She glares at him and calls over a thin man with drooping shoulders. In a burst of Chinese, she has washed her hands of Will and he's being led to the back and deposited next to Warren, who's scrubbing pots.

"What the hell?" Warren's eyes narrow at Will at Droopy's clipped Chinese. The teenager dries off his hands on the towel hanging around his neck and reaches for the wallet in his back pocket.

"Warren, stop. I don't need your money."

"So pay me back."

"How can I when you won't let me talk to you?"

Droopy says something else and impatiently holds out a hand. Will closes his hand over Warren's wallet and steps forward. "Warren will show me what to do," he says. Droopy leaves. Warren throws off Will's grip, puts away his wallet, and resumes scrubbing.

"Those," he says with a tilt of his head, "are dirty. You wash them in this sink, dunk them in the middle sink, and rinse them over there."

Will gets out a pan caked with what looks like bread crust and begins. "I know you're mad. You have every right to be." Warren says nothing, but _does_ dump out his sudsy vegetable water all over Will's arms before depositing the pot in the middle sink. Will sighs, but doesn't protest. "It was a kiss on the cheek—"

"It was a kiss."

"On the _cheek_, Warren. Layla and I have been doing that since before we were dating."

"Oh, so it's unreasonable to not want your boyfriend kissing other people, especially people he used to be dating?" Warren hisses, hands furiously scrubbing a new pot.

"Look, we're both sorry! It won't happen again, I swear!"

"No shit, cos I'll kick your ass."

"Sure you will. Just like that day in the lunchroom."

"Fuck you. You ran like a baby."

"I had no powers! Of course I ran!" Will splashes into Warren's pot. Warren retaliates by grabbing the nozzle over the third sink and spraying Will's t-shirt. He leers. "I win."

Will, dripping but happy for Warren's good humor, kicks his boyfriend in the shin and resumes washing his pan like all is right with the world.


	23. Black Flame

title: Black Flame  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: The characters and settings of _Sky High_ are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
warning: masturbation, villain!Warren

* * *

Maybe it's obsessive, but he watches the six o'clock news religiously. Not for the news stories, but for a person: Black Flame. It's Warren Peace, the friend who turned foe, the ex-friend who's now an even greater Supervillain than his father. Will hates to fight him, but loves the way it makes him feel alive. He has never felt more alive than he has with Warren. 

Never.

He hits record as the fight begins. Warren is fighting a hero from the West Coast, Mister Invisible. It's almost like Warren is fighting the air, fighting himself. It's Will's favorite way to watch him. His hair is whipping in the wind, in the fire he hurls from his fists. The camera zooms in on the snarl on his face. His eyes are dark and burning. His lips are red and full.

Will's feels himself getting hard and leans back on the couch. Warren is throwing flames at the air now. Some of them land on buildings, smashing through windows. Screams emanate from the buildings and the emptying street, but Will can't bring himself to care, because Warren's black leather jacket is hugging his biceps and the red streaks in his hair seem to burn like the flames in his fists.

A thrown flame hits Mister Invisible and chars his suit. Now the visible patch can be seen dodging in and out of the fireballs. Will cups his dick. His hand is warm. He imagines it is Warren's, on fire, yet never burning—Warren's fire could never actually burn Will. They used to test it in school, seeing what could and couldn't hurt Will. They came up with Will's friends and family. They were his only weaknesses.

A week later, Zach was found belly down in the pool in his parents' back yard. After the funeral, Warren disappeared.

And came back as the Black Flame.

Will still doesn't know why he did it. Maybe he thought it was his destiny, but Will thinks destiny is bullshit. Warren's powers are his own to use how he chooses. He could have burned his fingers down Will's spine, but instead he throws fireballs at Mister Invisible. It pisses Will off to no end, but he stops that line of thought. Yes, he'd rather be the one fighting Warren, but for him, they don't just fight. They fuck as they fuck each other over. They fuck with their eyes, they fuck with their fists, they fuck with every gesture and curse and oh God Warren's just made a ring of fire around himself and Will squeezes his dick and ohmygod need contact, need skin, need—

He gets his jeans unzipped and when his hand closes around his dick—finally, _finally_—he squeezes to stave off the orgasm he knows will come soon. He distantly hears the sound of his flesh pumping in his hand, but mostly he hears the sound of Warren's roar as Mister Invisible shoots him with a ray-gun that paralyzes his left arm. Will has dreams of that roar, that angry growl muted to pure sexual energy pouring over Will's body in vibration after vibration as Warren pounds into him, Will invulnerable and so easily broken with Warren leaning over him, hair in Will's face and getting in his eyes.

The end of the fight is near now. Will knows he can almost let himself go. Across the bottom of the screen, there is news of a house burning down in Will's area and a gunfight downtown that injured two men and a police officer. Will ignores them. Will is watching Warren set Mister Invisible on fire with a burst of flame from his right hand. He watches as Mister Invisible runs in a circle and drops to the ground, rolling frantically. Then he leaves off watching him, because Warren is conjuring a wall of flames around Mister Invisible and laughing, laughing like something has cracked inside him that Will couldn't seem to fix.

His erection lags a bit and Will concentrates on the way Warren's hair whips in the flames, the way the red in it lights up in the flying sparks. The way there is fire in Warren's eyes, and it's not from the flames before him.

Warren turns to the camera and the view jumps before holding steady. For a moment it seems he is looking right into Will's eyes. He points, mouths "I'm coming for you," and hurls a burst of flame. The camera goes dark, and so does Will's vision as he comes on his hand, on his jeans, on the coffee table and the red carpet.

When he opens his eyes, the newscaster is back on. Wiping off his hand with tissues from the box kept conveniently on the table, he stops the recording and wipes up the table and himself as best he can. Warren will come for him someday, he knows. And when he does, Will's not sure what he'll do.


	24. snow and fire

title: snow and fire  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. (If they were, Warren/Will would be canon.) This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: Thanks to those of you who reviewed "Black Flame." I was really nervous about posting it, seeing as it's darker in tone than...well, all of the W/W stories I've posted. Here's something much lighter :)

* * *

Will loves snow. It brings back memories of forts in the backyard with Layla and Zach, of angels and hot cocoa with marshmallows. It's days off from school and laughter, catching snowflakes on your tongue and rubbing them from you're eyes. It's snowmen with carrot noses and good, clean, American fun. 

Warren doesn't see it that way at all.

"Hey!" Will shouts, ducking behind his rapidly dwindling snow fort. "No fair!" Another flaming snowball smashes through his fort and burns a hole in the snow wall, which takes no time to crumble and melt at Will's feet.

Will wishes he could throw a fireball at Warren, just once, so he'd know how it feels. Instead he picks up an icy piece of snow and hurls it at Warren at somewhere around half strength. It misses Warren, but shatters against the branch behind him. Will hears a muffled "Fuck!" and snickers to himself.

"Did it hit you? I'm so sorry."

"I hate you!"

"You don't mean that," Will says, making more snowballs. He fully intends to throw them at half strength from now on. If Warren wants to play dirty, well, Will can play dirty.

When they get inside, Will's fingers and toes are numb and there's no hot cocoa because Will's parents aren't home. After leaving his boots by the door and removing his coat and scarf, Will sets about making it himself. He asks Warren to heat up the water, and Warren torches the kettle instead of turning on the stove. Will rolls his eyes but gets the mugs. "Show off," he mutters.

"If you got it, flaunt it," Warren shoots back, setting the screaming kettle on the cold stove. Will shoves a mug into Warren's hands and then replaces the mug with his own hands. "What's your problem? Your hands are freezing!" Warren gripes.

"I noticed. And your hands are warm."

Warren tries to remove his hands from between Will's, but Will's not cooperating. "Let go."

"No. And you owe me—you destroyed my fort."

"Because you can't throw for shit."

"No, because you cheated."

"Let. Go." Warren's hands suddenly spike in temperature, and Will knows he's about to torch.

Instead of withdrawing, he closes his hands tighter over Warren's. "Do it. I'll warm up faster."

Warren growls and torches, but Will just smiles beatifically. Warren stops torching. "I'm not wasting my flames on you," he gripes, leaning back on the counter and settling in for the duration of Will's stubbornness.

"Oh, you're not?" Will's smile melts into a smirk. There is snow melting in Warren's wet hair and on his thick black coat and Will wants to sweep it off for him. Instead he stretches up and licks Warren's bottom lip. "Are you sure?"

Warren glares at him. Will kisses him quickly and is abruptly gone from Warren's immediate proximity. He pours chocolate and hot water into the mugs and stirs them together without paying Warren the slightest bit of attention.

"Will?"

Will takes off his sweater and hangs it over the back of a chair. He knows his long-sleeved T-shirt rode up and has a feeling that Warren was watching, but he pulls it down without missing a beat and reaches up to get the marshmallows.

He feels a warm hand sliding over his hip bone and up his stomach. Will wants to smirk, but doesn't. "Warren, what are you doing? I'm not cold anymore."

Warren leans into his back and thrusts into his ass, grinding them both against the countertop. Will can suddenly feel every inch of his dick throbbing inside his jeans, and every inch of Warren's behind him. Warren tweaks a nipple and Will feels it tingle all the way down his spine. "I thought you weren't wasting any of your flames on me," Will breathes, voice smug and deep.

"I changed my mind," Warren says, and shoves his hand down Will's pants.


	25. Layla's

title: Layla's  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
pairings: Will/Layla, Warren/Will  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: Inspired by line '_Don't touch me please, I just can't stand the way you tease_' from 'Tainted Love' by Soft Cell.  
notes2: _Sky High_ comes out tomorrow :)

* * *

Warren hates it when Will touches him. Every hand on the shoulder, every clap on the back, every touch is a tease, a taste of what Warren can't have. He wants to shrug off Will's hands, shove off his care and his goddamn human decency, everything about Will that makes him care about Warren enough to ignore his snide comments and rude gestures. Because the very things that make Will desirable are the things that make him off limits. 

That make him Layla's.

The toss of his head to get that irritating hair out of his face is Layla's. The hesitant, "love-me" smile is Layla's. The dorky way he tells jokes and the firm way with which he tells the truth even if it hurts—all of it is Layla's and not Warren's, and every flash of skin in gym or laugh at Warren's commentary on Boomer and Powers's secret love affair, every hand brushing his in hero class or clap on the shoulder in Save the Citizen, every one of these is a tease, a taste of something Layla's that Warren wants but cannot have.


	26. kissing Will

title: kissing Will  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. I'm using them for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: i finally have _Sky High_! i'm ridiculously happy right now. here's hoping you become happy, too :)

* * *

The first time Will's tongue pushed into Warren's mouth, he tried to push it back with his own and found it immovable. He bit down on it until his teeth hurt and Will didn't make a sound, just drew back and frowned at him. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that," Will said.

"I wanted to see what would happen," Warren said. "Did you know you have an invulnerable tongue?"

Will blushed scarlet and kissed Warren to hide it. Warren let him, and spent the remainder of the evening testing the limits of Will's strength and invulnerability against his own body. The next day he woke up feeling like he'd been run over by a tank. There were bruises, finger and hand shapes, all over his body. His dick felt raw and his lips throbbed. He stumbled into the bathroom and got a good look at the damage: hickeys all over his neck and chest, bruises on his shoulders, hips. Instead of freaking out, however, Warren skipped school with a smug grin on his face. He couldn't wait for Will to make up this damage to him. With interest.

It was going to be fun having a superstrong boyfriend.


	27. rough night

title: rough night  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: a friend of mine read this and wanted to know "why". hopefully now it's understandable.

* * *

They are on the phone, he in a tux with no jacket, hunched over the front desk of a hotel, he in a phone booth half a world away. The streets around Will Stronghold are foggy, gritty, full of ash and the scent of plaster and blood. The streetlights glow like tarnished angels. In the ballroom Warren Peace has just left, gaudily clad people with forked tongues dance and spin on the marble floor. Will's hair is soaked in innocent blood and salty sweat. Warren's hair is pulled back, washed, tamed. His jacket is slung over a chair somewhere. It doesn't matter; it wasn't his father's. Will's dinner jacket is in the hotel room upstairs, the hotel room he left from the high window when the earthquake hit and the president called. 

"When can you get here?" Warren asks.

"I don't think I can make it," Will breathes, sagging in the booth. There is dirt under his nails. His hands are crusted with blood.

"I'll just leave then. I hate these fucking things."

"You need the publicity."

"I don't need these people."

"Then leave, I'll meet you at home."

"Thank God." Warren hangs up without voicing the 'I love you' in his heart or the worry in his head. In a phone booth half a world away, Will hangs up wishing for those words, and flies off into the night. He'll reach a Superhero checkpoint that will fly him home in about an hour. An hour of flying and three more in a plane and he'll be home. Alone. Waiting for Warren.

Warren strides back into the ballroom, schooled indifference on his face. He gets his jacket and leaves the soiree, packs up their belongings, and checks out of the hotel. An hour and a half later, he's on a flight back home.

He arrives before Will, unpacks, puts their clothes in the laundry. He showers off the filth of deceit and false pretenses, the residue of all such political gatherings, and climbs into bed. Alone. Waiting for Will.

When Will gets home it is past three in the morning. He stumbles through the house, half asleep, banging his shin on the couch and his hip on the partition between the living room and the hallway. His uniform is left in a trail behind him—he can pick it up before Warren gets back. When he turns on the water in the shower it runs pink into the drain. He washes his hair and body, singing off-key to keep himself awake long enough to make it to bed, and towels off with Warren's towel instead of his own. It smells like Warren. It is damp.

Will hurries out of the bathroom. Races down the hallway. When he flings open the bedroom door, Warren is asleep on the bed, hair fanned across Will's pillow, legs stretched across the entire bed. Will smiles, laughs, laughs so hard he falls against the door and slides to the floor, laughs so hard he doesn't realize he's sobbing until Warren's arms are around him, guiding him into bed.

"Rough night?" Warren asks, closing the covers around them both.

Will nods and hugs Warren instead of the pillow, hiccupping into a solid chest, crying tears that track down his lover's shoulder blades. Warren strokes his hair until he falls asleep, tears drying salty and hard upon his face.


	28. thirteen snapshots

title: thirteen snapshots  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written purely for entertainment, and not for profit.  
warnings: graphic sexual content.  
dedication: for those of you who wanted me to follow them into the bedroom.

* * *

Maj is leaning against Zach on the couch, Layla sitting on Zach's other side and leaning against the armrest, watching their laughter with a smile on her face. Maj's hair is pulled back and up, but still so long that it flows over her shoulder in a cascade of black and magenta. Zach's hair is short, spiked and platinum blond, highlighting the paleness of his skin. Ethan sits on the easy chair by the fire, glasses thick on his nose and full lips in a large white smile. On the opposite easy chair sits Warren, feet on the coffee table, father's tuxedo stylishly wrinkled. Everyone is in formal attire but Will, who is still in his glass-shard glittering jacket. He stands over Layla, one hand on her shoulder, the other on the couch, looking at Warren with confusion on his face.

The front lawn of Sky High is full of students milling about. Maj, Zach, and Ethan are sitting near a tree in the background, laughing. Warren is in the foreground in his usual jeans and black leather jacket, one hand covering his face, shoulders hunched in defeat. Layla and Will stand off to the side, kissing. Layla's eyes are closed. Will's are open.

They hunch under the rubble, light slanting in from a break in the debris heaped above them. Warren is squatting, one hand halfway toward Will's face. Will is sitting on his ass, hands thrust back as if to catch himself, feet still hanging in the air. Both are caked in dirt. Scratches mar their faces in drying blood the texture of rust and sand. Will's eyes are wide. Warren's are hooded. Their lips are heavy and swollen, red. Thick.

Layla's face is turned away from Will. His hands are on her shoulders and she is shaking them off. Her green sweatshirt and headband contrast with her red hair. Her green shoulder bag is wilted at her side, crushed by her left arm. Her right arm is near her eyes, cloaking her face. Will's face is sorrowful but determined. His eyes are dark, turning red, as is his nose. His mouth is open. He is speaking. Her lips are pulled back in a snarl of pain. Tears track down her face.

A room full of boxes. Some are open, some are closed, some are taped and some have tape lying in sticky balls beside them. Scissors peek out from behind one box. The room is empty of pictures or knickknacks as of yet, but there are poster carriers and one of the boxes is marked "Pictures". The two windows, side by side on the far side of the room, let in sunlight. There are twin beds on either side of the room, empty mattresses with pillows stacked on top. There are twin desks and dressers too, each sided with a bed. The furniture is made of cherry wood, beaten, scratched.

The room is divided into sides: Warren's and Will's. Will's side is on the right, Warren's on the left, looking in. Warren's side is predominantly red and black. Will's is red and blue. Warren's bedspread is black with red Chinese dragons snaking across it. Warren's is plain blue, the color of early twilight or the Commander's uniform. Posters coat the walls: bands, sports stars, superheroes, pictures of home, friends, family. Will is in a blue t-shirt and jeans, bending to put away a pair of shorts in his chest of drawers. Warren is exiting the bathroom in the little hallway at the front of their room. His hair swings behind him as he turns his head to look at Will, who is frowning at his shorts.

They're lying on Will's bed, Warren draped over Will's body. Will is sitting up, Warren lying over his stomach reading War and Peace and grumbling about the dryness of Tolstoy. Not to mention all the teasing he's endured for his name in that class. Will, dozing against the large red husband pillow, is fingering the red strands and twining them around the fingers of his right hand. His left rests against Warren's shoulder blades. Warren's left hand rests on Will's shoulder. His tattoo stands out, black against his tanned bicep. Fire.

The husband is lying against the dresser, fallen off the edge of the bed. War and Peace is facedown on the floor. The middle pages are bent from its landing. The two are on Will's bed, Will's shirt in a tangle, trapping his hands over his head. Warren, fully clothed in white undershirt and black jeans, is pulling at Will's jeans with his right hand. His hair hangs over his face, obscuring it. Will's hips are thrust in the air, helping in the removal of the jeans. The black ink of Warren's tattoo—the character for fire—is glowing faintly red, as are the streaks in his hair. His fingers spark against Will's jeans. His left foot is on the floor, his right knee pressing into the bed between Will's legs. The bed dips beneath Warren's knee, Will's shoulders and feet. Will's socks are white. Warren's feet are bare.

Will's legs are sliding up on the bed, pulling the sheets up with his curling toes. Warren's right hand is between Will's legs, jacking him. His left hand presses down above Will's head on the red t-shirt trapping Will's hands. Warren is above Will, their heads and hearts and hips aligned but separated by too much space for Will to handle. Will's face is twisted in ecstasy. Warren's face is hard with concentration. He peers intensely at Will's face, at the tendons straining in his neck, at the curl of his kiss-swollen top lip. There is sweat on Warren's upper lip and trailing down the center of his chest. Will's fingers are clenching and unclenching with his toes. Warren's thumb smears precum over the head of Will's dick.

Warren's face is thrust toward the ceiling. His dark eyes are clenched shut, his fingers gripping Will's hands, closed around Warren's hips. Will's dick is buried deep in Warren's ass. Warren is sitting on it, thighs clenched from lifting himself up and calves clearly defined by the curl of his feet. Will's expression is ferocious, teeth bared, eyebrows narrowed. Warren's mouth is open, tongue pressed against the back of his bottom teeth. Sweat shines slick at the curve of his ass, down his biceps and thighs, at Will's upper lip and neck, and down Will's chest. Will's thighs are straining from staying his hips. His knees are slightly bent, feet nearly flat against the tousled blue sheets. His hands are still dutifully held above his head, wrapped in the blue shirt, but his elbows are bent. His great strength is his weakness.

Warren is again lying on Will's stomach. Ropes of cum smear across Will's slick chest. Warren's head is on Will's left shoulder. His left hand plays with one of Will's nipples. Will's dick is wilting, Warren's ass glistening. Their feet are tangled in the sheets at the foot of the bed. The covers are on the floor, blue and thick. Will's brown hair is glued in dark creeping vines to the sides of his face, his forehead. Warren's hair is thrown back over his shoulder, the red strands sticking together. The back of his neck is still sweaty, as is the curve of his back.

They are asleep. Will's pajamas are a red t-shirt and a pair of boxers with burgers and fries on them. Warren's are his white undershirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. Will is encased in Warren's arms, hidden under the blue blanket. Warren's head is black against the blue pillow. Will's head is in front of his, hair wisping in Warren's breath. Their knees are bent, folded together. Their feet are relaxed, faces slack. The blanket is mostly divided between Will and the floor. Warren is only covered up to his elbows, but he has always carried his own fire.

Will's eyes are cracked open. Sunlight filters into the room, hazy and dreamlike. Warren is awake, lying on his side, face propped on a fist. His other hand plays across Will's stomach. He is watching Will wake up. Will's fists are inches from his eyes, about to rub the sleep from them. His hair is a brown, tangled mess. The red strands in Warren's hair are frizzed into the black, spread wide and unruly. The blanket is slipping off the bed, held in place only by Will's right elbow. Will is flat on his back, one knee bent, the other leg stretching, toes pointing. Warren is smiling softly. Sunlight dances across his face.


	29. masculine romantic

title: masculine romantic  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High_  
disclaimer: Warren, Will, and the _Sky High_ universe are not mine. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: The term 'masculine romantic' was coined by Lizz L. during a Phoenix meeting. I thought it was cute.

* * *

Warren is a very masculine romantic. He sings songs on his guitar about love and the way Will fits against his body, but at school he spews his regular insults and calls Will an idiot when he messes up in class. He leaves random gifts in Will's locker, and on Will's roof and windowsill, but doesn't mention them the next day. He writes letters and mails them to Will, beautiful letters about how Will makes him feel, but doesn't admit to sending them in front of other people. He brings over extra food from the Paper Lantern after work and eats it with Will in his room between the weight machine (which Will still hasn't moved to the basement), the bed, and making out on the floor.

Will would feel hurt that Warren rarely acknowledges their relationship in public if he didn't understand. Warren is too private, too invested inkeeping their images separate to parade Will around like a prized dog. If push came to shove, Warren would choose Will over anything. Will knows that, and it is enough.


	30. learn Chinese

title: learn Chinese  
author: newtypeshadow  
fandom: _Sky High  
_disclaimer: _Sky High_ and associated characters and settings are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.  
notes: 'wo ai ni' is Chinese for 'I love you'. also, i think this'll be the last ficlet for this fandom that i post for a while. i hope you all enjoyed the run :)

* * *

Will flipped off the TV set, tossed the remote on the bed, and sighed. "I can't understand this at all." 

"I thought you spoke Spanish," Warren said, flopping down on the double bed beside Will, book in hand. He was already dressed in his suit, though the jacket hung over the chair by the desk in the hotel room. It was the same suit he always wore: his father's, and a small 'fuck you' to the superheroes who'd testified for his continued stay in solitary.

"Yeah, but this is French," Will said, noticing the suit but not commenting. He knew Warren was still mad about the judge's decision, but wasn't going to mention it again. Warren'd accidentally torched in the middle of a restaurant, and it took some fast talking to explain the sudden burn mark on their table. It was just good they'd been at a private table, or they really _would've_ been toast.

"I thought French and Spanish were pretty close."

"They are, but I'm not fluent in either."

Warren raised an eyebrow. "You took Spanish all through college."

"Because it's good for superheroes to be at least bilingual."

"You took it four years and you're still not fluent." It wasn't a question.

"No?"

Warren opened his book and muttered something in Chinese. Will's eyes went wide. "I can't believe you just called me that!"

"Well, anyone who could take four years of a language and—wait, you understood that?"

"Uh, yeah."

Warren closed the book and put it on the night table. Then he pounced. Will grunted as Warren's full weight landed somewhere just south of his ribs. He whispered something in Will's ear and Will's eyes fluttered shut. Warren smirked. "I see what your problem is."

"Hm? Wait, what do you mean _problem_?"

Warren smirked wider in the face of Will's glare. "All you need to learn a language is the proper motivation. After this conference is over, what say we go to China for a while?"

"China?" Will sputtered, "but I don't know _any_ Chinese."

"Wo ai ni."

Will blinked. His lips wiggled. And then he smiled. "Really?"

Warren nodded.

"Seriously?"

Warren nodded again.

Will let out a startled burst of laughter. "So…China," he said breathlessly. "I could do that."


End file.
